i learned that velvet ants hiss when perturbed. it was an accidental revelation, but once i became privy to the fact, i chased a velvet ant down the trail, tapping the ground near him to hear him protest. i’m generally not so ornery to small creatures. i just found it fascinating that a creature so tiny would have the moxie to put up a fuss and yell at a creature as large as a human.
toadstools are everywhere. white cheeses and ink. we’ve had rain but not enough.
i procured some books via ILL. finally got to tuck into codex seraphinianus. it is beautiful. also got hold of a copy of the california water atlas. i’d wanted to buy my father a copy, but they’re absurdly expensive. i didn’t want to pay for it if it turned out to be something he didn’t like. so. i let him take a squint at the copy from the library. love at first sight. unfortunately i’d already bought him a christmas present (two new, unusual, cold hardy citrus trees) by the time the ILL arrived. he was so taken with the book he had me order one as a christmas present to himself.
more books from the library. almost all of them by gene logsdon. my dad has been recommending him to me for years, but i never picked any of his stuff up until now. i can see why my dad thought of me. apparently, logsdon is known as the “contrary farmer.” his titles include: holy shit: managing manure to save mankind, and good spirits: a new look at ol’ demon alcohol. yep. my father has me pegged.
been thinking about my maternal grandfather a lot these past few weeks. when he was a boy his family traveled the country in a covered wagon. they’d spend long stretches of time in the desert. they didn’t have any toys to speak of, so they’d use what they found in the sand. they’d make tiny lassos of indian rice grass and tie horned toads to little posts like cowboys securing their mounts. they’d do the same with tumbleweeds. always they’d fasten a little bit of ribbon to the tumbleweeds so that they could identify them. sometimes when my grandpa’s family broke camp and moved miles across the desert, the tumbleweeds would follow them. my mother continued this tradition of impromptu toys. she made cowboys from acorns, stealing wads of hair from the dogs and gluing on the wigs with pine sap. my grandmother threatened to switch her, which didn’t put an end to the dog scalping, but did make the act more clandestine. i had some dolls. but i made most of their clothes from malva leaves and cattails, when i bothered playing with them at all.
keeping my fingers crossed for the progress of the tiny house. it’s my top priority for the coming year.
wellidy. it’s time for rolling pie crust. adieu.